He looked so rueful that she laughed out loud.
“You are forgiven, Mr. Deane. Even more,
I offer you the fishing, and am proud
That you should find it pleasant from this shore.
Nobody fishes now, my husband used
To angle daily, and I too with him.
He loved the spotted trout, and pike, and dace.
He even had a whim
That flies my fingers tied swiftly confused
The greater fish. And he must be excused,
Love weaves odd fancies in a lonely place.”
Pickthorn Manor: 14
Amy Lowell
(1)
Poem topics: I love you, fish, fishing, husband, lonely, shore, place, offer, daily, love, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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